Before the Fall…..
Why does this happen?
You take a highly cerebral, intelligent girl, assume that years of exposure in an all girls school have finally extinguished her bohemian apetites for adventure; witness her seemingly logical detour into the spiritual "road-not-taken" searching for what ultimately fulfills - sit back, mouth agape when you hear her speak of HIM.
He is gorgeous. He is surrounded by girls who flock to him in awe of his non-conventional ways.
You would have thought she’d have learned by now that you musn’t hanker after what you cannot have. They’re not meant for each other. But she is fixated not on his body but on his mind and well…his eyes.
His eyes appraise her with curiosity and interest. He cautiously examines her - wanting to touch her with his mind but feeling around her to estimate the shape of her character…the way a potter intuits the impending figure of a clay.
She is transfixed by his gaze - seeing beyond the eyes to the questions they pose. While the exchange of words pass civily, the eyes speak a different language at a heightened pace. She wants to peel his person - layer by layer - anticipating every moment with exquisite pleasure.
There are heights of intimacy that orgasms cannot reach, she says. Talking far into the night as two uncover each other without touching is the ultimate pleasure.
He likes talking to her. Testing, testing how far will she go? How much of the undiluted me can she take? How soon before she airs a rejection? How far will she go?
Will I be able to stop, she asks.
The question does not bother him Life is a continuum. No experience curtailed - nothing passed up.
So it is left to HER. She wants a fellow traveler, a soul mate, a child she can mother, a man to love. Can that be so bad?
He wants to make himself known to her. He isn’t sure he knows all that self is or wants. But he wants to be known by her.
He is honest and SHE likes that. Can she be equally honest, she wonders. When the strippings of trappings occurs, there lies beauty and danger. One can love only what one knows.
SHE half imagines that when she gets to know him, the spell will be broken. And she will tiptoe around the fragments of her pretty poem and awaken to sobering daylight.
But is life ever so neat or trances so tenous?
She doesn’t know. She’ll let the road unfold. So says she. And HE, the eager, patient, bystander, waits to walk the road with her. Childlike and daring.
Man and woman in paradise.
Before the fall.
